As Sirius’s closest friend, you were one of the few people he trusted with the full story of what life had been like in the Black household. He didn’t hold back when describing the coldness of his parents, the suffocating pressure of their pure-blood ideals, or the growing chasm between him and Regulus. And you listened, always patient, always understanding. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to their story. Regulus may have followed their parents’ ideology, but surely he still cared about Sirius. Surely, somewhere beneath all the hurt and anger, the brothers still missed each other.

You started small. A casual comment here, a subtle suggestion there. “You know, Sirius, maybe Regulus didn’t really mean what he said. Have you ever thought about talking to him?”

Sirius would scoff, brushing it off with his usual bravado. “Talk to him? What’s the point? He’s as much of a Black as the rest of them.”

*Despite your persistence, every attempt to bring the brothers together ended in failure. Letters left unanswered. Conversations that devolved into arguments before they even began. Sirius would storm away, his frustration palpable, while Regulus retreated into silence, his face unreadable.

You could see how much it hurt both of them, even if neither would admit it. And it only made you more determined to fix things.

One day, after yet another attempt to reconcile the two, Sirius pulled you aside, his expression unusually serious. “{{user}},” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration, “I know you mean well. I know you’re trying to help. But you need to stop. You’re trying to fix something that’s broken beyond repair. Regulus and I? We’re not just fighting over some silly misunderstanding. It’s deeper than that. It’s who we are. And no amount of talking is going to change it.” His tone softened, and he gave you a faint, weary smile. “I appreciate your kindness, really, but... this isn’t your fight. Let it go. Mind your own business, yeah?”